


true colours.

by sehnsvcht (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Oh god, Rave, and thats it????, just read it and tell me what you think, they meet in a club/rave, this is wild, yeah its kind of like a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sehnsvcht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I see what you're wearing, there's nothing beneath it;<br/>Forgive me for staring, forgive me for breathing.<br/>We might not know why, we might not know how;<br/>But baby, tonight, we're beautiful now."</p><p>They dance, surrounded by lights, paint, flowers, and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	true colours.

**Author's Note:**

> An AU inspired by the song ["Beautiful Now" by Zedd.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sl2HeP8RlfU) You should definitely listen to it while reading this.
> 
> The idea came to me completely out of the blue, and so I decided to go for it, and write it. Haven't proofread yet, this is all completely spontaneous. Please forgive/point out any mistakes, and please please comment and give feedback!!! 
> 
> Without further ado.

The air is thick with sweat and a faint smell of something else, too. It's sweet and it tickles a little; it reminds Louis of nights when all he feels is light, alive, and eternal.

Just like tonight.

The night has just settled in, but the energy is more than invigorating. It's as if the entire space surrounding him is sizzling with something that just keeps on growing and getting bigger and bigger, stronger, more and more present—as if every breath Louis takes just increases that feeling of something greater, something much more powerful around him that whispers of happiness and delight.

 _Delight_. That's it. That's what Louis feels, tastes, sees everywhere, all around him. That's what's filling up his lungs, going through his veins like a burning fire that stings just the right way. It's amazing and he can't get enough.

The night has only just started, he realizes with a grin.

The mass of dancing bodies he's mingling in emanates of the same energy he can sense in his own limbs. Everywhere, he can see excited smiles, blissful expressions; eyes bright with anticipation that only reflect what Louis' thoughts are like at this instant. Pastel flashing lights are illuminating the entire jumping crowd, shifting to the beat of the music that's enveloping them all—maybe, Louis realizes, that's where all that energy comes from. The music, the loud thump of the bass, the chords that just fit so well together.

There are flowers, too. It's the first night of the summer—well, the first real party of the summer, that is—and for that occasion, they were promised two things: flowers, and paint. The flowers have made their entrance, already; everywhere he looks, Louis notices flashes of pink and pale orange, violet and white, soft petals and delicate leaves scattered all around the place, tangled in some boy's hair or some other girl's eyelashes. It's beautiful and glows with happiness, and Louis feels so alive.

He feels alive in the way his heart is beating loud in his ears, or the way his body is radiating heat and a little of sweat, or maybe it's all the smells and the lights and the colours that surround him. It's just so powerful, so full of life and something else he can't quite describe and he's getting drunk out of it, in a way—his mind is whirling and he's a bit dizzy but he loves the feeling.

He feels so alive.

That's when he sees him.

At first, it's a flash of green, and Louis wouldn't have paid attention to it, probably, considering the multitude of colours that dyes his surroundings, if it wasn't for how oddly bright the shade looked. Or maybe bright isn't the right word—it's just that it was something that caught his eye, really; something shining with that same exact thing he could feel running throughout his entire body.

It's a pair of eyes, he realizes.

Green eyes, and they're staring back at him.

They belong to a boy with brown curls held together by a magenta scarf wrapped around his head, and a smile that is splitting his face nearly in half. He's gorgeous, tall and handsome in his ways, his body moving to the sound of the music around them in ways that would look ridiculous in any other case, really, but the bliss on the boy's face makes the entire sight endearing. He just seems so happy, is the thing—happy and about to burst with all that energy building up inside him, and in that aspect, he reminds Louis of himself, right there.

It's only when they're close that Louis notices he has been walking towards him. His eyes are still locked on the boy, who's staring right back, always. His huge smile hasn't left his face the entire time, and Louis finds himself smiling, too. It's crazy how this boy's happiness is contagious, or maybe they're just sharing the same thing tonight.

He's wearing a sheer white shirt, Louis notices, with the buttons half done, showing off the tattoos inked on his skin—a butterfly on his sternum, two swallows on his collarbones, and a multitude of others Louis cannot depict clearly under the flashing lights. There's orchids tangled in his curls, and it adds to the boy's charm, really. He is stunning, Louis thinks. Stunning and staring at him with intent, too.

"Hey," Louis finds himself shouting over the music.

That's probably not the best time or place to introduce himself, he realizes. The music is loud and his words feel out of place; but the boy just smiles at him, and takes his hand.

That should feel out of place, too—a stranger has just grabbed his hand out of the blue, after all. But the gesture seems familiar, and the boy's eyes are gleaming with something kind and bright and at this point, it's simple—Louis feels trapped by this boy's _everything_ , and it only adds to his happiness, the delight he's been swimming in since the night began.

And so Louis holds on tight to that hand, jumping along with the boy next to him, who's now laughing and screaming in the night air. His energy is exhilarating, Louis thinks, and it seems to be contagious because now Louis finds himself laughing, too. He has no idea why—there's nothing funny, really—but he's just so happy. This party is driving him crazy in all the right ways, and the colours are bright and leaving imprints behind his closed eyelids, and there's a charming boy by his side holding his hand like they belong together.

Louis loves it.

They jump and dance for what seems like forever, sharing grins and laughs and names, too—his name is Harry, Louis learns. Harry is drop dead gorgeous, Louis also decides.

And everything is just so easy with him. Harry _glows_ under those lights, immerged in all that reviving energy; the colours compliment every single feature of his face—his curved lips, the clean cut of his jaw, the brightness of his green eyes. Despite the loud music, his deep voice resonates between them two, and it's like a second melody to Louis' ears—he can't get enough of it, and therefore tries his best to make Harry talk or laugh or anything that will recreate that feeling deep down in his guts that makes his insides turn in an addicting way whenever Harry speaks. And Harry won't stop laughing, and keeps saying Louis' name over and over again, and Louis is in paradise.

It's a bit like none of this makes sense; it's all a bit confusing, as far as Louis can tell. But it's so much fun, and Harry—this boy he's met barely minutes ago, really—is such an attraction of his own, amongst this sea of people surrounding them. It oddly feels like they've known each other for an entire lifetime, is the thing, too. Louis doesn't question it, though, and only follows along, lets himself be guided by Harry and all his little things.

Then, suddenly, the music around them starts fading slowly, faintly.

For a moment, Louis thinks he's imagining it—maybe it's a side effect of Harry's charm?—but when the crowd slowly stops moving, he realizes he isn't the only one hearing things.

He turns to look at Harry, and finds him already staring at him.

"What's going on?" Harry asks. His eyes are still bright and gleaming with happiness; however there's also confusion mixed in them, too.

"No idea," Louis breathes out. He feels Harry tighten his hold on his hand, and smiles, because he can.

Their questions don't remain unanswered for long, when they start hearing shouts amongst the crowd. They both look up at the same time, and that's when Louis sees them—splashes of paint being thrown across the entire space surrounding them, coming from God knows where.

He had forgotten about the paint.

But it's everywhere now, and it's gorgeous—bright, intense shades of neon green, pink, orange, blue are being splashed everywhere, painting the sea of white clothes ahead of them in some sort of human rainbow. It leaves cheeky marks on people's faces, wet paint getting tangled in everyone's hair and limbs and shouts.

Louis feels it on his own skin, too—blue paint covering almost the entirety of his t-shirt, with a little green, and pink being thrown all over his face and hair, and he simply _loves_ it. He's pretty sure he can feel something wet in his shoes, but he's too happy, too wild to care right now.

Next to him, Harry is laughing again; there's a huge drop of blue paint sprawled all across his brown curls, making the odd magenta of his headband look even brighter. His shirt is a mess of yellow and green, and there are traces of violet where's he's been smearing paint from his fingertips.

He looks like a child, Louis thinks, and it's so so _so_ incredibly endearing. Harry is handsome and cute in his own ways, and Louis dreams of days where he could see all those different sides of him unfold before him.

The music around them grows louder again, words being sung and thrown over them like an anthem for them to sing along, and they do. The beat catches up, growing louder and louder, building up to something and then—

White light, blinding, bright, flashes across the crowd. Louis closes his eyes, holds on tight to Harry's hand, and he knows Harry is smiling, too.

And then, all at once, the music starts again with a bang—it's loud and invigorating and finds them both jumping and dancing along with every fiber of their united being.

Louis is overwhelmed, in so many ways; Harry's touch is burning his skin, the music is tearing his ears apart, and his eyes can't stand the lights anymore. Yet, all he can think and _beg_ for is more, more, _more_. More of this, of this happiness, of this feeling, always. More of Harry, too.

And he's granted this one last thing.

Because amidst their incessant jumping, Harry finds the time to snake his arms around Louis' waist, keeping a tight hold on him, as they move along every so swiftly. They're just so good, together, always moving the right way in the right direction. Their bodies slot themselves perfect against each other, and it all feels a bit like a dream, to be so close to each other, two complete strangers with yet such a strong, sudden familiarity.

Louis can feel Harry behind him, his face buried in his own pink-smeared hair, sending shivers down his spine. His hands are firm but soft on Louis' hips, reassuring almost. He's so close, so very close, and with anyone else it would only seem suggestive. Louis is fine with suggestive, usually—he lives for it at times. But this feels like more, and it seems ridiculous to think so, but somehow not so odd at the same time. Nothing feels out of place with Harry, Louis realizes, and he hates how very true that statement is.

He should be wary, probably. It shouldn't be this easy. But it's hard to care when it feels this good, isn't it?

And judging by Harry's everlasting amazed gaze, his innocent yet cheeky grin, Louis believes that Harry probably feels the same, too.

It's all good.

Harry presses closer behind him as the music grows louder, always louder, the chords playing rapidly and beautifully above them. Louis wants to shout his happiness, but it doesn't feel _enough_ , somehow. He's just so happy, happy, happy, so fucking happy, and he feels so _alive_ , and there's just so much going on around him, so much that he's feeling.

And so he does the one thing he feels like doing, has been thinking of doing since he laid eyes on Harry.

It's probably too fast, too much, too soon, and probably shouldn't mean as much as Louis' crazy thoughts are making it seem, but Louis goes for it anyway.

He turns around in Harry's grip, and plants a soft hand on his cheek. If the look on Harry's face is anything to go by, they've both been wanting this one thing for a while now.

Louis leans in so fast he almost loses his balance, and catches Harry's lips with his own. Instantly, something builds up inside him, as he feels Harry move against his mouth, responding and giving and receiving everything Louis gives him back. Harry's hands are tracing patterns on his hips, up to his sides, down to the dip of his back, and Louis shudders into their kiss, sighs, smiles, and keeps on giving, kissing, everything.

It feels right and it feels good and Louis is in fucking paradise.

Harry's lips are soft and he's smiling just as much as Louis is, giggling into their kiss, smearing paint all across their lips and cheeks and chins, and it's messy and sloppy but also very personal and deep and very _them_. And they're not even a thing—them, that is—and Louis doesn't think too much of it. The night is still young and he's kissing a boy that has probably come straight out of his dreams and he's never felt this way before.

Louis breaks apart only when he judges he's made enough of a mess of Harry's curls, and they laugh instantly as soon as they meet each other's eyes.

"I like you," Louis breathes out. It shouldn't have come out. "Is that weird? It must be weird. Please don't think it's weird—"

"I like you too," Harry smiles.

And that's enough.

Louis turns around again, grinning wildly, securing Harry's arms tight around his waist, and they go back to their jumping nonsense, and it's incredible.

Then, suddenly, he hears a whisper right next to his ear.

"We're beautiful, now, aren't we, Louis?"

A jolt of something so incredibly good shots through Louis immediately.

They really are, beautiful. The both of them, all smiles and shining eyes, shared bliss and tangled limbs, swollen lips and newfound feelings, both beaming with that feeling Louis cannot even begin to describe—happiness just isn't enough, at this point.

"Yeah, we're beautiful."

 

 


End file.
